Page 55 of Consort's Glory
Margot could tellthat Theodore was furious — with her, with the situation — and forty-eight hours ago that would have made her heave with fear, but now…
Now she didn’t fear him. She was confused by him, painfully aware of the danger he posed, attracted to him, but Margot no longer felt the acid wave of fear churning in her gut when he looked at her. It was impossible to maintain that sort of thing when Theodore Solbourne wore his blue heart on his finely tailored sleeve.
Whether it was all an act or not, Margot no longer worried that he would slice her to ribbons with those silver claws. She was a tactile creature, a necessity in her line of work, and so she believed in what she could see, what she could feel.
The pounding of his heart under her cheek was real. The shame in his eyes was real. The crushing, possessive way he held her was real. The fact that he could have separated her head from her body when she shocked him was real. Those were all things she could verify with her own eyes and hands and mind; could be sure they were not simply products of her own misplaced yearning to see good in a man that made her blood hot.
Theodore was just… good.
Margot tucked herself against her door, the hum of the m-enhanced engine vibrating through her in time with the tremors that rattled her bones. There was no one behind the wheel this time. Kaz was busy taking Roger into Patrol custody, and the car was one of the rare luxury vehicles fully capable of self-driving. Theodore explained that he didn’t trust anyone except family to drive him anywhere, and since he didn’t feel like doing it himself, the m-navigation system would sync with the grid in the streets and handle it.
That didn’t mean they were alone, though. Margot caught the gleam of two heavy-duty black vehicles weaving through traffic ahead of and behind them, on the lookout for threats she could only imagine.
But for now, it was just the two of them in the backseat. The interior of the spacious vehicle was dark and warm, the tinted windows blocking out the glare of the sunlight to create an intimate cocoon.
Stop shaking, she silently commanded her body. Margot couldn’t afford to shake this bad when they were in an enclosed space together. Stop it. Stop.
But her body refused to listen.
Margot tried to breathe normally, acutely aware of the elf sitting a foot or so away. She kept her hands shoved deep into the satin lining of her coat pockets and closed her eyes. Theodore’s scent filled the car, heady and familiar, right in a way that none had ever been before him. The caged part of her wanted to revel in it, to draw it into its pores and simply breathe.
It was easy to focus on that instead of the dread clawing at her insides, the fear of death that made her want to curl up and whimper.
Tears pricked at her closed eyelids. I don’t even really care about the bombing. Knowing who did it won’t save my life, and I just want to live. I haven’t had a chance to do that yet.
No, she spent twenty-four and a half years locked away on Coven grounds, drilled by tutors and avoided by kids that were once friends, only let out to fulfill her apprenticeship requirements in Seattle. Even if she hadn’t been physically locked down, fear of discovery was its own special prison.
It was a cruel irony that it was her impending death that finally forced her to put her foot down with her grandmother, that finally allowed her the space to live.
Margot wanted someone, anyone to blame for the massive missed opportunity that was her life, but what was the use? Margot wanted to blame Sophie. She wanted to blame her irresponsible parents, but that wasn’t fair. She could have left the Goodeland. It took a massive argument to convince her grandmother, but in the end, she succeeded in winning permission to take the position at the Healing House with relatively little fanfare.
Looking back, Margot could have left at any time. She could have gotten an apartment somewhere. She could have taken a job at Luminous. She could have lived.
Damn it, I’m spiraling.
Being in the basement dredged up awful memories. The rise and inevitable crash of her temper made her want to curl up somewhere soft and cry. She didn’t know how to handle Theodore’s anger and she just… Margot was just tired.
Her nose began to tickle as a throbbing in her temples picked up a slow, painful beat. She couldn’t cry in the car with Theodore Solbourne. It was bad enough that he’d seen her tipsy and then let her cuddle him close like the touch-starved creature she was. Tears were wholly unacceptable to every part of her. Her pride as a Goode, her pride as a woman, her pride as a—
Theodore’s voice, low and tight, broke through her pity party. “I know you aren’t going to want to do this, but you and I need to craft another statement to give to the press. My phone has been ringing nonstop since your grandmother released hers. Especially now that we know the person who planned this is an elf, it will be imperative that we show a united front.”
Margot nodded, her eyes glued to the view of the street through the tinted window. “Fine,” she whispered. If it made his life easier, she would do it. Her anonymity was shot, anyway. Nothing mattered anymore.
Margot sniffed quietly, trying to keep everything in with an iron will. Her eyes burned and her sinuses felt like someone lit a match in them, so held her breath and squeezed her eyelids shut. Do not cry, she firmly commanded herself. Do not!
There was the rustle of cloth, then a hard exhale. Margot felt his warmth radiating through her clothing as he leaned closer. She didn’t even need to look to know his thigh was only inches away from hers. She just knew.
“Margot, I am so sor— Why do I smell blood?”
Something hot trickled down over her lips.
Too surprised to remember why she was supposed to keep her hands hidden, Margot opened her eyes and lifted her fingers to her nose. Blood, she thought, staring at the smear of red on her trembling fingertips, smelling the sharp metallic bite of it in her nose. I’m bleeding.
Clawtips, cold and smooth, pressed against her jaw. She was too stunned to fight him when Theodore turned her face towards his.
He was very still, his expression blank, when he asked, “What is this, Margot?”
She knew what it was. Second stage of burnout, triggered by high energy output. Ruptured blood vessels in thin tissues. Next will be the brain, if it hasn’t begun already.
